


Elvhenan

by mostladylikeladythateverladied



Series: Suledin [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2699468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostladylikeladythateverladied/pseuds/mostladylikeladythateverladied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan's clan is slaughtered, and Dorian deals with the fallout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elvhenan

**Author's Note:**

> So I accidentally got my Inquisitor's clan killed and was disappointed by the lack of reaction, so this was born.

Aisling spent the majority of his time pretending he knew what he was doing and the rest of that time was spent wooing Dorian. He had no estimation of his success on either front.

His successes had so far been due to other people, mainly Solas. He had Solas to thank for keeping him alive and finding Skyhold for them to use, though the Inquisition believed Aisling to be responsible.

Aisling hated it, but kept his mouth shut. He’d already been scolded for insisting he didn’t even believe in the Maker, let alone that he was his bride’s herald. No, he had to lie to everyone and be less of a man and more of an icon.

As for Dorian, he had yet to figure the man out, and had no idea if they were making progress or not. Dorian hardly ever initiated anything between them and they hadn’t done anything beyond kissing and bantering. Aisling adored the man and he wasn’t sure if he was adored in return. Aisling didn’t dare ask if Dorian returned his feelings, fearing his fellow mage wouldn’t take him seriously, as he took nothing seriously. He couldn’t stand facing a rejection.

With the continuous failings in his political and personal life, the Dalish elf felt more comfortable leaving the fate of his own clan in his ambassador’s hands.

As much as Aisling wanted to run off and protect his clan with his own two hands and staff, doing so wasn’t an option. He wanted to send his whole army to defend his family and friends, but Cullen and his people were busy building watch towers for farmers in the Hinterlands, and Cullen had told him they couldn’t spare the men to travel to the Free Marches.

Leliana was busy quietly averting a war between Nevarra and Tevinter, and Aisling didn’t dare interrupt her machinations.

So he’d placed the task in Josephine’s capable hands, trusting her to know what was best.

He’d told her back in Haven how important his clan was to him. That he’d loved the life of traveling and learning magic from his Keeper. He hated to think he’d never see them again, but with his position as Inquisitor that was looking more likely by the day. He’d never escape the politics of a Chantry he’d always reviled.

Now, he merely tolerated it.

After screaming into a pillow, as had become his habit, he went to bed, trusting that Josephine would have his, and his clan’s, best interests at heart.

Aisling woke to pounding on his door. As much as he wanted to stuff his face under his pillow and ignore the world, he was _important_ now, so he should probably address whoever was visiting his quarters before the sun had risen.

He shuffled to the door, not bothering with his over long hair, knowing he didn’t have the energy to twist it into his preferred braids on the back of his head.

The door unlocked and opened to reveal Dorian, to the elf’s surprise and delight. A smile crept onto his face despite his exhaustion. He received a smirk in return.

“It seems we’ve both been summoned by the esteemed ambassador at this Maker-forsaken hour. Care to walk with me?” Dorian offered his elbow, all gentleman and somehow looking unruffled and groomed despite the early hour and  being clad in a simple tunic and pants.

Aisling took the elbow presented to him and proceeded to the Main Hall. Everything was quiet and still unlike the hustle of bustle of the day that the workers and nobles made. It felt peaceful walking the halls with his _lover? significant other? occasional kissing companion?_

“Do you have any idea what Josephine wants?” Aisling broke the silence with a hushed query. He didn’t want to shatter the peace between them.

Dorian, apparently, had no such reservations, as he spoke with his usual hearty voice that seemed to always be ready to break into laughter.

“No idea. I only know it’s urgent because Josephine told me it was when she woke and me up and told me to get you. Likely some visiting Orlesian noble was disappointed by the lack of variety of cheeses.”

Aisling laughed, which sounded suspiciously like a girlish giggle, and stopped before he embarrassed himself further. Still, Dorian smiled indulgently at him, and he felt a flutter in the pits of his stomach.

They arrived at Josephine’s office, the ambassador seated at her desk, writing something frantically, then scratching it out and starting again.

“Josephine?” The Inquisitor asked.

“Good, you’re here. There is…a situation you need to be made aware of, Your Worship.”

Aisling held back the flinch at the title. He despised hearing it, knowing it was part of the lie he had been forced to construct around him.

“Though I’m always happy to be of service to the Inquisitor,” Dorian gave him a wink at the word _service_ , and Aisling giggled again, _Creators what was wrong with him?_ , “But I’m not sure my presence is required.”

“No, you need to be here.” Josephine snapped, almost angrily. She immediately appeared sheepish. “Ah, my apologies Dorian. I’m just…I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Aisling released Dorian’s arm, receiving a disappointed sigh, and became all business.

“You are aware that I was tasked with contacting noble assistance to defend your clan against bandit attacks, yes?”

Aisling’s brow furrowed. His worry rose, but he beat it down. It wouldn’t do to start panicking before he knew the details.

“I really shouldn’t…” Dorian started another attempt to escape, but Josephine cut him off with a raised hand. Aisling couldn’t help but be impressed. He didn’t think anything could shut Dorian up.

“Unfortunately, the noble’s forces arrived too late. The reports I’m receiving…are not good.”

“What does ‘not good’ _mean_ , Josephine?” Aisling was certainly panicking now. He was starting to understand why Dorian was needed here.

“Most of the clan is dead,” Josephine winced as Aisling let out a cry, “and any survivors have scattered.”

Aisling felt a steadying hand on the small of his back and a firm grip on his upper arm. Surely, he would have collapsed without them.

Dorian held him up as he quietly sobbed, and Josephine attempted to apologize, but Aisling wouldn’t hear it. He didn’t want to hear how Josephine had managed to kill his family, how sorry she was for shattering his world.

Dorian dragged him out of the room, which was likely for the best as he was ready to strangle his ambassador, and they stumbled back to his quarters.

He was deposited on the overly ostentatious Orlesian bed that Dorian had insisted he buy when they’d seen it in the Val Royeaux marketplace

“Something like _that_ is a showpiece,” Dorian had said, “not meant to be used for actual sleep or…other activities.” His voice had dropped an octave as he muttered in Aisling’s ear. “Feel like soiling it?”

He’d bought it on the spot, and Dorian had yet to make good on his promises, much to Aisling’s frustrations.

 _Creators, what am I thinking?_ His mind had wandered to happier places to protect him from the pain of his reality. His family was dead. Everyone he had grown up with had been slaughtered by bandits.

He killed what felt like a hundred bandits a day. He felt like he’d purged the Hinterlands of them only for more to appear. He could have protected them. Why couldn’t Josephine, with all her resources and contacts?

He had flopped into a pathetic, weeping mess, and he barely noticed Dorian’s hushed reassurances, let alone could tell the words. He felt his hands, stroking his hair and his skin, trying to coax him out of the stupor he had cried himself into.

Dorian settled onto the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around him and spooning him from behind. Aisling could feel the long, solid body moving to match his own, blanketing him in warmth.

Aisling sighed and pressed back into the offered comfort, letting Dorian soothe him.

Sometime later, when the sun had risen and both men had managed to doze lightly, Aisling awoke, still in Dorian’s arms.

He turned in the embrace, and now faced the Tevinter’s slumbering visage. Aisling couldn’t resist passing a hand through the short, dark locks, envying how the man could look so handsome even while he slept. His own black as pitch hair was a hopeless mass of tangles every morning.

There it was again. Thinking of silly, pointless things to block out the pain lodged in his belly. The thought made him sob again, and before he could smother the sound with his hand, Dorian’s eyes shot open, then crinkled in concern at Aisling.

“How are you faring?” Dorian inquired, sensing that now was not the time for teasing commentary on the state of the elf’s hair.

Aisling didn’t answer verbally, only buried his face into Dorian’s chest.

_Dorian knew this was a turning point in their relationship, and he could either protect himself from inevitable pain when Aisling tired of him and ended this, whatever it was, between them, or he could fully embrace his affection for this glorious little elf and help him in his time of need, damn the consequences. It was a ridiculously easy decision._

Dorian sighed and ran a hand down the arch of Aisling’s back. He writhed into the touched, wanting contact now more than ever. He needed to know he was not as alone as he always felt he was these days. Now he had no place to go back to when everything was all said and done, no home at all.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Dorian quietly asked.

“Do what you’re doing right now.”

“Should I maybe find Cole…?”

“No. Cole isn’t who I need.”

“Alright. I’ll stay here, as long as you’ll have me.”

_Dorian meant it, too._

Aisling supposed that would do for now. And maybe, just maybe, he could make a new home here in Dorian’s embrace.

* * *

 

“It isn’t your fault.”

Josephine started at the soft voice that sounded from in front of her desk. A young man stood before her, and she felt like she had seen him before, but couldn’t recall where or when.

“What?”

“You did as you were told and didn’t know what would happen. You think you let your family make you slow, but you didn’t. You did all you could.”

“I…”

“He is sad, and angry, but he doesn’t need me to heal the hurt. He has someone by his side to do that. He will be alright, so don’t worry. He won’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive.”

Then Josephine was alone again, left with only a strange feeling of calm.


End file.
